Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Hachisu, like Julia Child before her, has written a paean to her adopted country. Though both are expatriates sharing their beloved cultures, their philosophies couldn’t be more marked. While Julia devoted her life to telling Americans, “You too can cook French food!”, Hachisu’s driving message is, “You CAN make this food, I SUPPOSE, but it will never be as good as mine because I’m married to a Japanese farmer and you are not.” My husband, bless his heart, said, “Yeah, and all her neighbors are going, ‘Lady, we are ALL married to Japanese farmers!’” Nevertheless, the tone grates, and I soon realized that she and I would never share culinary epiphanies. To wit, “After forty years of cooking since my early teens, it’s not often I have a food-related revelation, but when I do, it rocks my world. I suppose you must remember that moment when you discovered artisanal salt years ago, or when you finally embraced small-producer olive oil instead of the gallon can of Bertolli.” Artisinal charcoal is also a thing. “I had always assumed (erroneously) that the charcoal I bought at the local home center was produced in Japan, but I had unwittingly been using charcoal mass-produced in China all these years. I thought back to the countless barbecued meals I had unwittingly infused with that soulless smoke.” And with that thought, any remaining desire to create a Japanese farm meal died. My applewood pellets and Kingsford briquettes would besmirch any of the recipes. The pretensions continue throughout the book, including having to teach her Japanese farmer husband how to eat sushi because apparently he’s a hick: “Tadaaki had not often eaten at a sushiya, so I initiated him into the dos and don’ts of sushi protocol.” This book is way too stressful. Again, I’ve not made any of the recipes, but I did note that few ingredient substitutions are given for those of us living in the cultural wasteland that is America (the Bay Area notwithstanding).